


Get to the important stuff

by limitlessrose (shinealightrose)



Series: 2020 Holiday Gift Fics [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Conversations at the Bar, Incognito footballer Yuta, M/M, Strangers to Friends, Tourist Taeyong, alcohol consumption, but no one's drunk drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightrose/pseuds/limitlessrose
Summary: Yuta's just trying to have a casual drink at his favorite bar. Meet Taeyong, the friendly tourist with just a little too much knowledge of the football world and well... maybe this is going somewhere.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Nakamoto Yuta
Series: 2020 Holiday Gift Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066013
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	Get to the important stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caterplina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caterplina/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Cata!! Hope this doesn't disappoint <33

“Do you think there’s something special about a person’s first love?”

Yuta almost drops the glass in his hand. “Huh? Wha-?” he says, looking around. The last time he checked, the bar was empty except for a middle aged office worker on the other side of the bend. The counter is curved, the lights are dim. It’s barely six o’clock, too early to be drinking probably, but Yuta has always found this is the best time when he just wants to be alone. 

He’s not alone now though. 

Two bar stools over is a young man with soft blue highlights shining from dyed blond hair. He stares intently at the insides of his glass and scoffs at himself, not looking at Yuta even once. 

“Never mind. Just rambling.”

He doesn’t look drunk. Neither is Yuta. He glances at the bartender once, who looks at the new customer and shrugs. Like he doesn’t think he’s a threat. Yuta trusts him; he comes here often enough. 

Then he starts to muse. “A person’s first love? Who knows. Maybe it’s just what you make it?”

Yuta takes a swig of his drink before laying it carefully on the countertop. The man beside him hums. 

“I suppose so. Always kind of wondered if there was something special about it.”

“There’s always something special,” Yuta starts. “But after that, it’s anyone’s game, isn’t it?”

The man smiles. Yuta is trying hard not to stare at the stranger too intently. There’s always a danger in that. It invites people to stare back. Hard to tell himself not to, however, when the man is just so easy on the eyes. His jawline looks perfectly crafted, hard angles, but soft skin. 

Yuta isn’t able to turn his gaze away before the man looks at him. There’s no recognition in his eyes, so that’s good. 

“Guess that’s an unanswerable question then?”

“Guess it is. Sorry, I’m not a help,” says Yuta. He smiles in apology, trying to keep it light. They’re just two strangers in a bar drinking far too early for a night like this. 

“I’m Taeyong.”

But okay, oops, now they’re strangers no more. 

He hesitates for a second too long before saying, “Yuta,” and offering his hand. 

Taeyong takes it hesitantly. His handshake is firm but not overbearing. 

“Thanks, Yuta. I’ll try not to share any of my other existential crises before the night is over. “

Yuta laughs. “For real? Hey, what are times like these for? Share away.” 

Taeyong shakes his head though, and Yuta swears it’s like watching the stress just melt away, from Taeyong, from him as well. 

“You work here? Live here, just visiting?” Yuta asks. “A student?” Because the man could be that young still. Yuta puts his age anywhere between twenty and twenty-five. Any older than that and he’d be dead shocked. 

“Visiting,” says Taeyong. “Suppose I’m a tourist. I’d like to think it’s a little more than that.” He doesn’t explain before asking in return. “What about you?”

Yuta hesitates even longer this time. “Born here. Just, living. And following my dreams, close as I can.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that.”

“I… coach football.” Because he does, sometimes, for his niece’s elementary team on weekends he doesn’t have a match, training, practice, or some other schedule. 

He doesn’t mention the closet full of cleats and professional-grade red jerseys lining the rack. Or the uniform for the national team he’s more than a little bit proud of, having finally made the team last year. Or the fact he barely scrubbed his face and threw on some clean clothes before heading over to the bar tonight. Does he smell like sweat? Hard to tell when there’s a heady whiff of whatever cocktail the bartender is practicing on tonight. Another reason to love this place. Sometimes he gets to try a taste.

“I like football,” says Taeyong. 

Yuta clears his throat uneasily. “Y-Yeah? You follow any teams?” he asks, silently praying Taeyong is only a casual fan who follows Barcelona or maybe ManU. 

But then Taeyong lists his favorite Korean teams before branching out into not only _one_ of the major European leagues but _four whole European leagues_ not including Champions, and Yuta thinks he’s off the hook when Taeyong pauses for a moment before saying cheekily, “Heard Japan’s national team isn’t all that hot this year. What do you think their chances are of finishing high in the World Cup in a couple years?”

He’s surely only asking because they’re in _Japan_ right now, and Yuta is clearly Japanese. It’s just a friendly rivalry, right?

But Yuta says, “Definitely gonna win,” without missing more than a couple of beats. Because of course he’s allowed to speak confidently. It has nothing to do with the fact he’s _on_ the damned team. 

“Hmm,” says Taeyong. “Well good luck, anyway.”

Yuta finishes his glass and mentally talks himself out of ordering another. He offers to buy Taeyong one instead. 

“Oh, no, thank you, I’m good.” 

This is it, probably. Yuta’s out of liquor and Taeyong must have somewhere to go after this. Yuta has practice tomorrow before the crack of dawn, which is why he drinks so lightly and so early in the evening. He needs the proper amount of sleep, and he definitely needs the proper amount of _personal_ time before he sleeps. 

Then Yuta bites his lip before adding spontaneously, “Where’re you headed?” 

“The rest of my night?” hums Taeyong casually. “Nowhere special. Some nights I like to wander, see what I get into.”

“Could be dangerous.”

“Could be,” says Taeyong. “Doesn’t have to be.”

Taeyong’s Japanese is more than passable, going by the conversation they’ve been having. And Taeyong looks carefree enough to just… wander, as he says. It makes Yuta a little jealous. Not the fact he might be recognized, because sure it happens from time to time and it’s usually no big deal. But that _attitude,_ the more-than-a-tourist role Taeyong seems to embibe. It must be nice. 

Something of that must show on his face because Taeyong laughs softly before nudging him with his elbow. 

“Walk me somewhere?”

“Where to?”

“Like I said,” says Taeyong, flashing a blinding smile. “Anywhere?”

It’s _so_ tempting. But Yuta really should not. “Ahh, probably shouldn’t.”

He gives a nod to the bartender who closes up his tab. 

Taeyong’s smile hasn’t dimmed too much. There’s still a shade of it there. But he doesn’t meet Yuta’s eyes as he says, “Mmm, sorry. I come on too strong sometimes. Fatal flaw of mine, don’t worry about it. Hey, I hope you have a good evening.” And he sounds genuinely nice. 

Yuta doesn’t think Taeyong has a fatal flaw at all. Though there is something fatal about Taeyong’s looks. Taeyong moves a fraction and Yuta clenches, suddenly desperate to keep him from leaving. 

“Hey wait, that-that’s not…” he scrambles, words failing him. 

God, when was the last time he just made a _friend_ ? Regardless of where this could go, despite the fact it’s been only a few minutes since they met… Yuta can be impulsive too. It used to be one of _his_ fatal flaws, until he forced himself to tone it down for the sake of his career and semi-public persona. 

“I… actually need to check out a store a few blocks from here. Was planning to walk. And… you said…”

The way Taeyong lights up is a little overwhelming. This time it’s as though his eyes themselves have dropped straight from the stars. 

“Care for a little company then?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

  
  


It’s a little chilly outdoors but Yuta only finishes zipping his jacket. Taeyong fishes out a little beanie from his messenger bag. And just like that, Taeyong transforms from drop-dead hot to utterly cute. It’s doing terrible things inside Yuta’s chest. 

“It’s just this way.” He points around the corner. 

A few moments later, after some painful silence, Yuta tries to joke. “You really do this often? Meet strangers and walk around with them in the dark? How can you be sure I’m not a weirdo?”

Taeyong walks with his hands shoved down into his jacket pockets. He turns his head as they stroll and gives Yuta’s face a once-over. “You? A weirdo? No way. I do have a good eye for people.”

“Really, now.”

“Really!” 

Yuta smiles. It feels too mean that here they are, walking together, and Yuta feels like he’s leading him on. Should he come clean about who he is? Does it even matter?? In the grand scheme of things, who is Yuta really? Just a guy who plays football. He’s hardly a superstar. 

They keep up a steady stream of meaningless talk all the way to the shop. “Wait, here it is.” He throws out a hand to keep Taeyong from waltzing right past the place. Then he jolts, realizing he caught Taeyong across the middle of his stomach. Hardly intimate, but awkward nevertheless. 

Taeyong doesn’t bat an eyelash. He does, however, do that thing where his eyes light up again when he sees the window shop done up in twinkle lights and the most elaborate display of chocolates and candies. Yuta owes a box to his sister and niece for a birthday he had to miss because of his last game. 

“Handmade chocolates! Way to a man’s heart,” Taeyong exclaims, and Yuta’s stomach does that swooping thing all over again. 

“Uhh, yeah,” he tries his best to laugh it off. 

Inside though, he leaves Taeyong to slow browse every shelf while he orders a custom box of the chocolates he already knows his sister’s family likes best. 

“Anything else for you, sir,” asks the cashier.

Yuta is seconds from saying say and whipping out his card. But then Taeyong, several counters over, throws up an overly delighted shriek at something he just spotted. Yuta says, “Yes… whatever he wants over there.”

Taeyong obviously hears him. He stands up and looks toward Yuta in wonder. “Really? But I just met you.”

Yuta smiles nervously. “My treat, for walking with me.” 

Taeyong shakes his head, but when the employee asks which of the chocolates he wants, Taeyong doesn’t hesitate to show him. Nor does he fight Yuta over the bill. He does, however, beam those heart eyes at Yuta and, once they’re outside, says, “You know, it should have been my treat. For forcing you to go along with _me_.”

Yuta can’t keep it in any longer. 

“Nah. I should have mentioned earlier actually. I’m a soccer player. Professional. I’m uhm..”

He’s expecting Taeyong to have a bigger reaction. Maybe a dropped jaw, or shocked eyes. Instead, Taeyong squints at him, steps back half a meter and looks him up and down. 

“You know… I thought you looked familiar.”

“Really?”

“Y-yeah… I mean I’ve been watching some local matches since I got here and …. Shit, you’re on the national team, aren’t you? Yuta… Yuta….”

Yuta takes pity on him. “Naka-

“Nakamoto Yuta! That’s it. Wow. The one and only.” Taeyong looks no less delighted than when he spotted his favorite chocolates in the store behind them. And then, “Oh no. Am I keeping you up? You probably have stuff to do. Or tomorrow. And here I am, just asking you to walk all over town with me…buying me chocolates.”

Yuta smiles. “It’s really no bother-”

“Wait!” Taeyong yells again. “This means we can talk about the _really_ important stuff.”

“Huh?”

“Seriously though- what _are_ Japan’s chances of doing well at the World Cup. Because no way you’re doing better than South Korea.”  
  
  
  



End file.
